Chapter Two: Dawning

Angel sat in his room of the Hyperion, reflecting on years past. Years he spent with Buffy. The good times they had together, like when he was human. How much had he given up for her then? His own happiness, that would have resulted in them both dying if he had not returned to his vocation as a vampire with a soul; fighting for all that was good. Yet she had died anyway, sacrificed herself to save the world, and her sister. That was how much love she had. How much love she gave.

As the vampire sat, silent tears fell down his face for the woman he had loved. Loved. It was strange thinking of his feelings for her in the past tense. He did still love her, just not in the way he once had. He had a new life now. Cordelia had taken the place in his heart that Buffy once had, but he still loved Buffy, he just wasn't in love with her. And Cordelia could never know how he felt. After what she had just been through with Wolfram and Hart manipulating her visions and nearly killing her, the last thing she needed was more complications in her life.

Then there was Fred. Five years in the hell that was Pylea. She hadn't come out of her room for days after they had arrived back through the portal. Over the past five years, she had learned to depend on herself and her seclusion so much, that she had made her own little world inside her head. When she spoke, which was a very rare occurrence, she hardly made sense. She just babbled about fairy stories and being rescued from her hell. Slowly though, she was coming out of her shell, the way she had handled herself in Caritas when Gunn's old gang had tried to kill Angel was brave. Stupid, but brave. Of course, after that, she vowed never to go out again. For some reason, Angel couldn't blame her for that.

Gunn was still the same. Cautious, headstrong, a fighter. The fact that he had had to stake his sister had almost destroyed him, but he pulled through; not forgiving, but at least seeing that not all of the things that went bump in the night deserved to die. His hatred for vampires ran deep though, and Angel appreciated that; he'd need that hatred if Angelus ever came back. For whatever reason.

Wesley, well, he was just Wes. He was Angels' best friend, his confidant, and the brains behind the brawn. His research skills were the reason that the team had survived for so long. Without him discovering how to kill various demons, they would stand no chance. Angel didn't know what they would do without him.

Throughout Angel's deliberations, he had felt not only grief, but also great unease. He had not felt such a thing since he was Angelus' and his Childer had needed him. They called to him in the past. Called for their Sire. Whispers singing through his blood, a blood they all shared. A blood that bound them together in eternal damnation...

Suddenly, a scream ripped through the silence of the hotel.

Angel ran through the hallways and down the stairs to the lobby, just in time to catch Cordelia as she fell. The vision had hit her harder than usual. It had been so powerful that she had been thrown across the room. Her friends gathered around her as her breathing calmed and she recovered from the affects of the vision.

"What did you see?"

"Angel, he. he. he's dying."

"Who's dying Cordelia?"

"S.S.Spike."

Angel's face turned paler than it was already. Confusion flickered across his features.

"Angel? Angel." Cordelia demanded. "He's dying. How can he be dying? He's already dead."

"Well yes Cordelia, thank you so much for reminding us of that oh-so obvious fact"

"Wesley!" Angel hissed.

"Sorry, it's just, well. I can't imagine why the Powers would send Cordelia a vision to save a monster like Spike. I mean, he tortured you, and well. he is rather. well, he's an evil."

"Yeah, English, I think we all get you man. So, what's this 'Spike' in Cordy's vision for?"

"Cordelia, can I get you something?" Angel asked, oblivious to Gunn's question.

"Water, please."

Angel hurried to the office and took a bottle of water from the fridge. What were the powers trying to tell him? Why would Spike be in a vision? Why would he need saving? He didn't have a soul. What could they possibly gain by keeping him alive?

Angel returned to the group and helped Cordelia stand. Everyone had been so caught up with trying to work out why Spike would be in a vision that they had simply left the seer on the floor of the lobby. He led her over to the sofas, and asked her to tell him exactly what she had been shown.

---

Spike was travelling slowly. The first night, he had barely made it out of Sunnydale before sunrise. He found shelter in an abandoned building. He had $50 in the pocket of his duster. He hadn't eaten. He hadn't slept. Not for days. Dreams of that night haunted him. He saved her in his dreams though. Every time, he was there, protecting her. Proving his love.

The days had gone by quickly. Buffy had been dead for over two months. Yet still, he grieved. Her ghost would not leave his thoughts. He moved from place to place, seeking solitude. He had formed his own world inside his mind. Part of that world was a place where Buffy was alive, and safe. The other was where he lived with his failure. Where her face haunted him; where memories consumed him.

So many times, he had thought about death. About taking a walk in the sun. But something held him back. What it was he wasn't sure. Hope? He didn't believe he had any hope left. As he arrived at the coach station, just outside of the place he had spent the day sheltering in, he felt a sense of uncertainty as to what he was about to do. About the reaction he would receive when he arrived at his destination. Would he belong there? Did he belong anywhere?

//He's a monster, he doesn't belong here//

Xander's words echoed through his memory. He saw the faces, Willow, Giles. staring at him with disgust and hatred for his failure. He thought of Dawn, his beautiful, sweet, Dawn, her saddened expression as she realised he was leaving. He thought of Joyce, another Summers' that had treated him as a man. He hoped Buffy was with her. Hoped that they were at peace.

He placed his money on the counter and bought a one way ticket. It was the only place he could go to. The only place. His mind was filled with worry and grief as he boarded the coach to Los Angeles.

---

Fred emerged from her room when Cordelia's scream pierced the air and rang in her ears. She was determined to go downstairs and find out what had happened. For days now, she had slowly moved closer to the door, willing herself to open it. Yesterday, she had, but that was all she had managed to do. The walls of her room were covered in writings. A language that would look like no more than doodles to most, yet made complete sense to her. As she had began to run out of wall space, her writing had become smaller, and she was now in the process of filling all of the blank spaces she could see. Blank spaces made her feel. awkward. Only small, complete spaces made her feel safe.

She stepped out of the hallway to the top of the stairs, seeing Angel and everyone crowded around the sofa area, she made her descent to join them. As she reached the lobby, she spoke, her strong southern accent masking her words.

"I. is she o..ok?"

No one responded to her question, so she tried again, a little louder this time.

"Is. is she ok?"

"Oh, Fred! You came out of your room." Wesley stated. "Cordelia's fine, it's nothing to worry about, she just had a vision."

"I did not 'just have a vision'!" Cordelia snapped. "I had a vision about us saving and evil, bloodsucking, disgusting, over a century old Billy Idol look alike who tried to kill Angel, and me for that mater, God knows how many times, including once here in LA when we first set up shop! And don't you tell me it's nothing to worry about. You may have read up on Spike, but he's worse than everything you've ever seen. Except Angelus', and that's still saying something."

"Cordy, calm down." Angel pleaded. "There's got to be an explanation for all this. All you were shown was him in pain, dying. Doesn't mean we have to save him. They could just be letting us know."

"Angel, please! Be realistic here! You hate him as much as I do, but the Powers never. Fred?"

Fred startled as she heard her name.

"Uh, yeah?"

Cordelia raised her eyebrows as if intrigued by the Texan's appearance. "What was I saying? Oh yeah. the Powers never show me something just to let us know Angel! You know that better than I do. There's always a reason."

"Did you have a timeframe?"

"What?"

"A timeframe, y'know, like when he needs saving. I mean, you usually get one, I was just wondrin' if you got one this time, I mean, that could maybe help to figure out when he needs saving and how much time you've got to figure out why and stuff. Well, unless you're not gonna help him, which would make sense if he's as bad as you think he is, bein' as he's a vampire an' all."

Fred was cut off as Gunn interrupted her. "Whoa girl! Slow down there! You haven't said more than two words since you got here, and now you're just racing away with your thoughts there! Slow down!"

"K, I'm sorry, I was just tryin' to help, I mean, s'none of my business really, I'll just let you all get on with figurin' it out."

She turned to go upstairs, but Angel stopped her. "That's not what Gunn meant Fred." She looked at him sceptically. "He just meant that you need to slow down when you talk. breathe a little." Realisation dawned on her. She had been babbling again. That was why she hadn't spoken for so long, because everything she said just came out as gobbledegook. "Why don't you come and sit down for a while, stay down here with us?"

"Ok Angel, if you're sure." She turned to Gunn. "Sorry Charles. guess I do get a bit carried away when I'm thinkin', I mean, I've thought my own thoughts for so long now, I." She blushed. "I'm doin' it again aren't I?" Gunn just smiled at her and nodded. "I think I'm gonna sit down now."

"So, Cordelia. Were you given a timeframe? Or a location maybe?"

"No Wes, all I saw was him in pain. Like he was dying."

"Was he being attacked?"

"No"

"Mmmm, curious. Well."

"What is it English?"

"I was just contemplating that maybe this isn't a physical threat. You said yourself, you saw no demons; there was no timeframe, no location. Perhaps it's merely a vision of what may happen to Spike in the future."

"Maybe Wes; but then why would I get it now? I mean, without knowing when, it kinda makes it hard for us to save him wouldn't you say?"

"You're right Cordy." Angel stated simply. "It makes no sense that they would show you now, if it's going to happen in the future. It must be something. There must be something we're missing."

"What if. nah, doesn't matter. Never mind, just forget that I."

"What if what Fred?" Wesley asked.

"Well you said that maybe it wasn't a physical threat, which makes sense in a weird sort of way I s'pose, but then you said that it might be in the future, but Cordelia's had the vision now, and well, most of the time when she has visions it's like stuff that's happening at the moment, and I mean, it affected her enough to make her scream and to get me out of my room, so maybe it is happening now. I mean, if it doesn't have to be physical pain, maybe he's just dying on the inside. I mean, well, if he has a reason to. Would he have a reason to? I mean, him bein' and evil, bloodsucking, over a century old Billy Idol look alike? What if he is in pain, I mean, like emotional pain, and what if he does need your help, I mean, I needed your help, mind you I was stuck in a hell dimension, which I suppose sorta counts as physical pain too, considerin' the way I was treated n' all but I mean. Do any of you understand a single word I'm sayin'?" Fred asked to the faces staring at her.

Gunn was the first to laugh. He was closely followed by a fit of giggles from Cordelia. Even Angel chuckled at her display. Fred's face was bright red, her cheeks all puffed up and her breathing was laboured. Her heartbeat was rapid. She sank into herself, curling herself into a ball on the sofa.

"I'm sorry Fred," Cordelia said, still giggling. "It's just; you looked like you were going to explode!"

"Well, she does actually have a valid point." Stated Wesley, seemingly unaffected by Fred's display of how to not breathe very much while explaining a theory. "It could be happening now. But what would have triggered it, and what does it have to do with us?"

---

Spike leaned against the window, curled himself into his seat, wrapping his duster around him as he did so. He closed his eyes for just a moment, and fell into sleep.

Buffy was running in front of him, screaming that Dawn was in danger and that they needed to help her. Spike picked up the pace, but couldn't seem to catch up with the Slayer. As he reached the foot of the tower, he bumped into something. It stopped him from moving forward to climb the tower. He turned around to see if he could find another way up. Startled by what he saw.

"Drusilla? What are you doing here?"

"Oh Spike, my sweet little boy. Miss Edith says you have been naughty and need to be punished. You're going to dance with the King Of Cups and the Queen Of Hearts will guide you to your rest. The stars, they sing to me, like snakes in the grass. Hissing the directions out in a swirling language. My Spike. What have you done? You aren't the same anymore. No fight left in my Sweet Prince. I'm not your princess now. Neither is she."

Drusilla pointed to the top of the tower. Spike looked up to see Buffy standing at the edge. When he looked back to see Drusilla, she was gone. He ran up the stairs of the tower keeping his eyes on Buffy. Begging that he would get to her in time. The more steps he climbed, the higher the tower grew. Suddenly he was on the floor, his ribs broken, hardly moving, he looked up as the sky turned bright white.

As Buffy jumped, he woke with a start.

"Next stop LA" came over the speakers.

Spike wiped the tears from his face, and hid his sobs in his cupped hands. As the train pulled to a stop in the coach terminal, he stood and walked out of the doors. It had just turned midnight. He took his cigarettes out of his pocket, retrieved one and lit it, inhaling deeply as he took in his surroundings. Without a second thought, he strode off in the direction of the nearest club.